


Night Talkers

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Dialogue-Only, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Actually, I was snorting about the strangeness of  discussing a great example of 17<sup>th</sup> century blank verse in the  middle of the night with a man whose poetic appreciation would,  according to most people, stretch only as far as ‘The boys stood on the  burning deck’ dirty words version.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Talkers

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I ever posted to my LJ back in 2007. It was read by three people ... now three of my closest journalling friends, Princessofgeeks, paian and catsmeow. Thanks for still being here. :-)

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Um, nothing. Why? Does there have to be something up just because I call?”

“Nope. It’s just that you don’t usually call at 3am.”

“It’s 3am?”

“Where I am, Daniel, yes, it’s 3am.”

“Damn. Sorry. Keep forgetting.”

“S’okay.”

“So …”

“So.”

“So, what were you doing awake at 3am?”

“Just got in.”

“You’ve been out? Til 3am?”

“Yes. Well past bedtime for an old guy, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I meant … it’s a Tuesday. Not exactly the night of choice for high-rollers to hit the town.”

“First of all, I’m no high-roller, unless you count what I can do in an X-302, and second, I wasn’t on the town. If you must know, I was at a Pentagon reception. Pressing the flesh and easing the way for the program now that budget-setting season is here.”

“Oh. Was it fun?”

“Only in the way having your own teeth pulled is fun. Lots of suits. Lots of sensibly-heeled women.”

“Still. You made it to 3am.”

“2.26 actually. Got cornered by a senator in a very bad suit who wanted to talk war stories. His, not mine. I began mentally cataloguing Puccini’s operas when he got to Pearl Harbor. By the time he’d made it home to Nowheresville, Arizona, I was on to Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia and heading full tilt for Janacek. Most fun I’d had in my head since composing my top ten list of Things to Do to Daniel’s Mouth. So the night wasn’t a total bust… I like it when you laugh. Don’t hear it anywhere near enough.”

“Yeah. Well.”

....

....

“So how was your day, darling?”

“Oh, you know. Woke up, had coffee for breakfast, gated out, glad-handed the leaders of a friendly alien race, ran into some not-so-friendly aliens on the way back go the gate. Killed two. Gated home. Had cold pizza for dinner. That sort of thing.”

“Business as usual, huh?”

“Business as usual.”

“Care to back up a little there?”

“Back up where?”

“To the day in question, your honor. The friendly aliens were useful?”

“I think they could be. They seemed willing to trade technology for medical help. Very Tollan-like on the weapons front, more Land of Light on the medicine front. A few well-chosen antibiotics could be a cheap price for something akin to an ion cannon or two.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“If you like that sort of thing.”

“Which the program does Daniel, lest we forget.”

“Yeah.”

“And then?”

“Then, what?”

“What happened after you left the friendly aliens?”

“We met the not-so-friendly aliens.”

“Why were they less than amenable, given that things seemed to have gone well?”

“Rebel faction. Dissatisfied with the distribution of wealth. They saw us as collaborating with the powers that be, pointed this fact out forcibly and let us know their displeasure by firing at us with something like zats.”

“Everyone okay?”

“Sam took a hit to her left arm but she’s fine.”

“You?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Think you left something out there, Daniel.”

“What?”

“The small matter of ‘killed two’.”

 ....

“Daniel?”

....

“Daniel! Christ. Don’t … don’t do that when I’m here and you’re … Daniel. Come on. Please. Talk to me.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t ever say that to me, okay? I just wanna …”

“I had a zat and a P-90 and without thinking I went for the P-90, Jack. When did I stop looking for the other option?”

“You reacted. My guess is they were pointing weapons at you, and at Sam and Vala and Teal’c and Mitchell. Am I right?”

....

....

“Am I? Daniel? Fuck, look, the distance in miles between us is bad enough. Don’t start putting any other kind of distance there as well. Am I right?”

“Yes!”

“So, you made the right –

“Fuck, Jack, I don’t want you to tell me I did the right thing. That’s not why I called.”

“Maybe you don’t want me to. Maybe you need me to. You still there?

....

Daniel?”

....

“Sorry, thought the Kleenex were on the bedside table. The box was on the dresser. And sorry for, you know …”

“Being human?”

“I don’t know.”

“Want to tell me why did you call?”

“What? You’re going to make me say it? That I just wanted to hear your voice. That sometimes that’s the only thing I want?

“Daniel…”

“It’s okay. Really. Killed people before. Lots of them, as a matter of fact. Hardened pro now. All those years of military mindfuckery finally paid off. Shoot first, don’t ask questions later. They were bad guys, they got in the way. Just another two notches on the gun stock. God knows why this should send me headfirst into the tissue box.”

“Two too many maybe?”

“Maybe. I think, perhaps, it just hit me tonight, as I was in the shower actually, that I’ve killed people. I. Have. Killed. People. And I’ve stopped thinking about it. I’ve actually stopped letting myself feel it.”

“Whoa, there. Not letting you get away with that. If you’d stopped feeling it we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And I wouldn’t be punching my pillow in frustration because your head isn’t on it and I can’t hold you through this. Fuck it, Daniel.”

“Yeah. Fuck it, Jack.”

....

....

“You sound tired, Daniel.”

“I am.”

“Then sleep.”

“Aah, that would be a no thanks. Too much in my head. Bound to spill over and I don’t want that. I’m gonna grab some coffee and hit the laptop for a while. Sorry I’ve kept you awake. You’re bound to have some important General-type things to do tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

“I can keep you company. We can talk, sing, recite poetry, whatever you want.”

“Poetry?”

“Oh yeah. How’s this: ‘So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life.’”

“That’s … beautiful.”

“That’s Milton.”

“Yes, Jack, I’m aware. Paradise Lost, book nine. Like I said, beautiful.”

“It’s also true.”

“Yeah. I get it, Jack, and backatcha. It is a little odd, though.”

“Not really. A little controversial maybe, what with Milton painting Lucifer pretty sympathetically I’ve always thought. What? What’s with the snorting. You think I don’t know this stuff?”

“Oh, I know you know this stuff. You just don’t like people knowing you know this stuff. Actually, I was snorting about the strangeness of discussing a great example of 17th century blank verse in the middle of the night with a man whose poetic appreciation would, according to most people, stretch only as far as ‘The boys stood on the burning deck’ dirty words version.”

“You’re right. Strange. I’m happy to stay with you though. However you want me. And no, that’s not a come on, as much as I wish it were. If I don’t make it to the Springs soon I’m gonna have a severe RSI problem on my hands. Right hand. Pun intended.”

“Jack, really, it’s okay. I’m working on the department budget. As you said, that time of year. It’s not the most interesting work but it is absorbing and requires concentration. It’ll do the trick.”

“Phone sex will do the trick, too.”

“It might but … not tonight, okay?”

“Okay. If you’re sure. Getting you off will get you to sleep, though. Trust me. This, of all things, I know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I will be. Thanks. For listening.”

“We’ve still got a lot to talk about.”

“Maybe. I think we’ve talked enough. For now.”

“Maybe.”

“Jesus, I miss you, Jack.”

“Yeah.”

“G’night.”

“Night.”

 

 

ENDS


End file.
